


Desperation

by Doctor_Discord



Series: The Ego Manor [66]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Depression, Family Feels, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, Hospitalization, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Major Character Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Sobbing, Suicide Attempt, This is not a fun story, but unintentional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-29 07:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18774451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord
Summary: Silver's tired. Tired of grieving, tired of hurting, tired of pretty much everything. Tired to the point where he can't feel anything. And he's tired of the numbness. In a fit of desperation, he makes use of an outlet, not thinking of the repercussions. Not thinking about how it would effect his family.





	Desperation

**Author's Note:**

> * W A R N I N G *
> 
> This story contains VERY graphic descriptions of depression, self-harm, referenced suicide, and some implied PTSD! DO NOT read if even one of these is even slightly triggering! And if you can't, that's okay! But I'd like you to still stick around and read the note at the bottom, it contains some pretty important info!

Silver was having a bad day.

It was one of those days where just _everything_ he saw reminded him of _him_ , embedding thorns deep in his chest with every thought. He couldn’t even _look_ at Jackie on these days. He loved Jackie to death but his mask…his _blue_ mask…just made his heart ache and throb and every moment spent with him just sent a stabbing reminder _over and over and over_ again that _he_ wasn’t here, that Silver was incomplete. It felt like a black hole was accumulating in his chest, forcing this deep-set _ache_ in him that absorbed everything he wanted to feel, and it just grew bigger and bigger until he just felt _numb._ Just…numb.

Everything came to a head when he and Jackie encountered some robber attempting to make an escape. The trigger-happy criminal had immediately shot at them, just barely missing Jackie, the bullet grazing passed his ear and leaving a bloody trail in its wake. It had sheared through the fabric of his mask, and Silver stood, paralyzed, as he watched the bloody, blue fabric float to the ground. He was completely oblivious to Jackie cursing fluently and furious beside him, unaware as he lashed out with his aura and pinned the bad guy. He was only snapped back to the present, made abruptly aware of the tears sliding down his face, when Jackie grabbed his shoulders. He smiled softly at him, his big _blue_ eyes glowing with concern. “Go home, Silver. Somethin’s been up with you all day, it’s obvious. Go home. I got this.”

Silver just nodded once, slowly, before he took off, heading straight for the manor.

He entered through the back door quietly, relieved that no one seemed to be loitering about the kitchen. He paused, standing on the threshold. The manor was blissfully quiet for once, the others all off at their respective jobs. Either that or the numbness that just steadily grew in his chest had reached his ears and he was just _deaf_ to everything but his own pounding pulse.

He finally took a step deeper into the manor, intent on just drifting back to his room, but instead he faltered, turning toward the kitchen. He imagined he looked like a zombie – his posture slumped, his eyes glazed over and clouded, his head almost lolling on his shoulders. His gaze slipped to one particular drawer. Dark had long-since placed a lock on the kitchen knives, since Wilford had a habit of putting them back still covered in blood. Only the less homicidally inclined egos knew the combination, plus Dark himself. Silver knew it was a bad idea. He’d seen the scars on Wilford’s arms from that day on the roof. He saw how confused he looked when he ran a finger over them. Dr. Iplier would lose his mind.

But he just wanted to _feel something_ besides numbing, crushing _grief_.

Almost as if in a trance, he moved toward the drawer, inputting the combination with trembling fingers before sliding it open. He picked a small one, barely the length of his hand, but razor sharp all the same. He didn’t even close the drawer before he walked off, knife held loosely in his hand. His mind felt like a fog had settled over it as he slipped into his room, closing the door quietly behind him. He felt like he was looking down on himself, simply a spectator of his own body, as he changed out of his costume and into his pajamas.

He was jolted back into his body when the cold press of the blade was suddenly against the underside of his arm. His hand shook. He squeezed his eyes shut, curling forward slightly. This was a bad idea, this was a _very_ bad idea, but that _ache_ just kept _growing_ and it _hurt_ and it was getting hard to breathe –

His hand jerked, and the blade broke skin.

Silver gasped, eyes cracking open, his sight blurry through his tears, to watch the blood well on his arm, his hand shaking even worse than before. It _hurt_. It stung like a bitch and it wasn’t pleasant, not even remotely, but it was better than the numbing void of _nothing_ he felt.

It was like a dam broke inside him; whatever slight inhibitions he had about doing this to himself were erased the moment he felt _something_ , even if it was pain. The knife bit through his arm over and over again, and the longer Silver dragged it down his arm the more it _hurt_. But the black hole kept growing. So Silver kept cutting. He didn’t _stop_ , not even when his tears ran dry, not when his vison blurred anyway, his room swimming and spinning around him. At some point he ran out of room on his one arm so he swapped hands, the lines becoming jagged and unsteady. His hand was shaking so bad he couldn’t even hold the knife anymore, and it slipped out of his grasp.

The second the blade hit the floor Silver slumped, his body completely giving out and going slack. He fell sideways, his – in contrast – relatively untouched arm draped over his stomach with his other splayed out before him. The underside of his arm was almost unrecognizable, the ruined fleshed caked and matted with his own blood. He could do nothing but watch as he bled out slowly, a growing pool of red spreading beneath him at a near agonizing rate. He didn’t pass out, not quite. He faded in and out of consciousness, periods of time lost to him and only known due to how much bigger to pool got every time he opened his eyes. His breathing was growing shallower and more rapid by the moment. But he wasn’t panicking. The overwhelming _numbness_ was gone, he felt like he was floating, and that sensation just brought _relief_.

He didn’t know how long he stayed in that…that strange, drifting state of mind, but it must’ve been all night, because with the vague grasp of himself he still held onto, he noticed the room getting brighter, and the dim, distorted sound of the others walking passed his door. His ears rang. His fingers twitched when he heard what he thought was his name, but that was all he could manage. The pool kept growing. Silver’s vision had begun to blacken around the edges. Is this how _he_ had felt? When he held the gun up to his temple? Did he feel this _peaceful?_

His fingers twitched again when he heard a gentle knocking on his door. “…Silver? We…came to check on you. No one’s seen you since yesterday morning, and Jackie called last night sounding pretty concerned…are you okay?”

Silver’s lips moved formlessly in response, as if trying to speak. He heard his door creak open. His back was to it, he couldn’t see who had entered, but he definitely _heard_ the twin, horrified gasps. “Silver! Oh my God – Dr. Iplier!”

One of the Jims ran over to him, pulling his head into his lap and brushing the hair from his eyes while the other bolted off, screaming Dr. Iplier’s name. He could feel hot tears splashing against his face, mixing with his own that streamed silently down his cheeks. His mouth opened and closed slightly, trying to form words with his broken voice, abused from hours of sobbing. “I – M’sssorry –”

“Shh, no, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, RJ’s getting Dr. Iplier, and –” A choked noise escaped CJ, and he brushed his fingers through Silver’s hair again, more tears splashing on his face. Through Silver’s blurry, dazed vision, he saw him attempt a smile. “J-j-just hold on, okay? You’ll be okay, w-w-we’ll get you fixed up, _please_ just –”

Silver heard the pounding of footsteps approaching, and then they were skidding to a halt a few feet away. He was breathing far too rapidly to be normal. Dr. Iplier waisted no time in crouching down next to CJ, and Silver watched through clouded eyes as his hand flew up to his mouth. “ _Oh my_ –” He swallowed thickly, and Silver saw his face harden as he slipped into doctor-mode. “Quick, bring him to my office. I don’t know how long he’s been here but it was _too_ long.”

CJ stood, following after Dr. Iplier at a rapid pace, RJ at his side. Silver was a complete deadweight in his arms, unable to do anything but let out a soft groan as they began to climb the stairs. He was vaguely aware of the horrified cries and shouts of the other egos as they passed, but they were resolutely ignored. Eventually Dr. Iplier’s office closed behind them, and Silver was being set down on a soft bed. Dr. Iplier’s voice rang out once more. “You two clear out. Your hovering is just going to get in my way.”

The Jims flinched. “But –”

“ _Go._ ” Dr. Iplier pointed toward the door, then he sighed, features softening. “I know you’re worried, and I know you wanna stay, but I just –” He drew a shuddering breath, sounding like he was choking back a sob. “Just let me work. Go fill in the others. Please.”

The Jims left without another word, glancing back several times, and Dr. Iplier at last turned his complete attention to Silver. He kept his mouth clamped shut, working silently as he dabbed gently at Silver’s worse arm with a cotton ball dipped into disinfectant, pausing whenever Silver flinched. Dr. Iplier sucked in a harsh breath when all the blood was washed away, revealing the sheer amount of _damage_ Silver had done to himself. He just adverted his eyes, closing them as Dr. Iplier repeated the process on his other arm.

His mind drifted absently as Dr. Iplier wrapped his arms in bandages. He tilted his head in his direction, however, opening his eyes when Dr. Iplier collapsed into one of the bedside chairs, resting his face in his hands. When he lifted his head again, his eyes were red and his cheeks were wet. “ _Why?_ ”

Silver glanced at his bandages, shifting his fingers as he gradually regained feeling. “I…” He swallowed, unaware he still had tears left to cry until they were pouring down his face in a fresh wave. “I just wanted to _feel something!_ ”

Dr. Iplier jumped at his outburst, and Silver just kept talking, squeezing his eyes shut, his words slurring from blood loss. “You don’t know what it’s _like!_ I can’t…can’t _feel_ anything, it’s like there’s something _growing_ in my chest and it _aches_ and it just absorbs _everything_ and I was just tired of feeling _numb_ all the time!” A sob tore itself from his throat. “Ever since…ever since _he_ left me this has just been growing inside me and I was _sick_ of it! I was…I was desperate…and it worked. F-for a little bit…”

Dr. Iplier’s mouth fell open, a look that was a cross between grief and realization spreading over his face. “Silver…you’re _depressed_. Why didn’t you say anything sooner, we could’ve helped you, before i-i-it came to _this!_ ” He gestured broadly to his arms.

Silver shrunk, shoving them beneath the covers. “I didn’t…know it was that bad. I just thought I was taking a particularly long time to grieve.”

“Well, no doubt that’s part of it.” Dr. Iplier stood, pacing along the length of the bed. “Now that we know about it we can _do_ stuff about it…I don’t want to put you on meds, don’t wanna risk an addiction or something, not with this…we could get you a therapist.” Silver flinched again, and Dr. Iplier paused, giving him a small smile. “I know, but you need to _talk_ to someone, Silver. You need to get your emotions out, or it’s going to overwhelm you again, and something like _this_ will happen again. I know some pretty good ones at the hospital, if you’d like to give it a shot.”

Slowly, Silver nodded, and Dr. Iplier grinned. “Okay! I’m gonna get you something to eat, you lost quite a bit of blood and I don’t have any transfusions here, you just need rest and not move too much for a while.” Again, Silver nodded, and Dr. Iplier moved toward the door before halting. He turned to him, looking apologetic. “Actually, I’ll just call the Host up here with something. No offense, but I don’t trust you alone, not just yet.”

Not five minutes later saw the Host entering the room – with the entire household trailing after him. He slammed the door before any of them could push their way through, breathing a sigh of relief. In his hands was a bowl of cashews and a plate of leftover chicken from a couple of nights ago, as per Dr. Iplier’s request. Something about iron.

Dr. Iplier smacked the Host on the shoulder. “We could’ve done without literally everyone else in the manor lurking outside the door!”

The Host offered him a tight smile. “The Host could not have stopped them even if he tried. The Jims told them everything. They are – the Host included – worried.”

Dr. Iplier pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, fair enough, I can’t be upset about that.” He glanced at Silver, the hero working on shimmying beneath the blankets with his limbs feeling like 100-pound weights. His bandages came into view for a brief moment – a feat considering they went from his wrists to his elbows – and the Host winced, taking a step toward him.

He cleared his throat. “M-may…may the Host…?” Silver gave a hesitant nod, not quite sure of what the Host was asking. The Host sidled closer still, slipping into the bedside chair Dr. Iplier had abandoned and passing him the food. Silver was forced to reveal his arms again to take it, and the Host gasped, ghosting his fingertips over where blood had begun to seep through. Silver sat rigid, allowing him to do so with a swirl of emotions he couldn’t identify brewing inside of him. “If…if the Host may ask…why would the Silver Shepherd do this to himself?”

Silver glanced at Dr. Iplier before bowing his head, picking at the chicken. “In short, as Dr. Iplier has helped me work out, I’ve apparently been depressed for the past three and a half years of my life and just let it build without saying a Goddamn word about it.” He could feel himself tensing up, rubbing his bandages self-consciously. “I don’t – I-I-I knew it was a bad idea, but I did it anyway, I was just so _desperate_ –”

The Host cut him off with a sigh, placing a hand on his forehead and muttering something under his breath. Instantly Silver felt his muscles relax, slumping over in the bed as a pleasant feeling washed over him. He hummed, content, and began scarfing down the food once he realized how _hungry_ he was, all his other negative thought and emotions pushed to the side for now. Dr. Iplier started from where stood, racing over. “Whoa, hey now, what did you do to him?”

The Host leaned back in his chair. “The Host has just allowed the Silver Shepherd to _relax_. He must focus on healing, both mentally and physically, and he currently stands in his own way.”

There was a sudden pounding on the door, followed by Bim’s panicked voice. “Host! Dr. Iplier! Open up, ple – Hey! Where do you think you’re going?! Dark!”

A moment later, a tear in the Void appeared in the center of the room, and Dark stepped through, Wilford following after him. Wilford instantly burst into tears, one hand gripping his own forearm, as Dark’s form split, leaving three versions of him all staring at Silver with the same horrified, heartbroken expression. Silver bowed his head, shoving away the half-eaten plate and hiding his arms under the covers again. The Host’s magic couldn’t stop him from feeling _guilty_.

Dark seemed at a complete loss for words, gripping his cane so tightly in his hands Silver thought he was going to break it. Wilford, however, after a hesitant moment, rushed to his side. He placed a hand on his cheek, brushing away his tears with his thumb. “It’s _okay_ , Silver. None of us are upset with you. We just want to know _why_. But I’m sure you’ve been asked that quite a lot recently. We can wait. We’re just…worried about you.” He turned to face Dr. Iplier, keeping a hand on Silver’s cheek. “What can we do?”

Dr. Iplier huffed, crossing his arms. “You can start by getting out of my Goddamn office.” He raised an eyebrow. “I get that you want to be here. If you don’t think I’m mentally losing my shit right now you’re wrong. But overcrowding and overwhelming him will only be detrimental. I’m kicking him out in a minute, too, if it makes you feel better.” He nodded to the Host, who flipped him off, and Silver snorted. Dr. Iplier immediately brightened, though he kept his stern demeanor. “Seriously, get out. And do a little crowd control please.”

Wilford gave him a salute, bending down to press a kiss to Silver’s forehead, before walking back over to Dark. He linked their arms, but Dark wouldn’t budge, simply staring at Silver with his images beginning to flicker, his ringing picking up volume. Silver could see the silent tears trailing down his face. Wilford gave him a concerned look. “…Dark? Are you…?”

“ **I** …” Dark’s voice was nearly unrecognizable with how distorted and layered it had become. He looked so distressed that Silver once again looked away, unable to bear the facts of the uproar he’d caused. He jumped when he felt Dark’s aura intertwine with his – albeit _very_ weak – own. He gave a small smile, reaching back as best he could, and even that little bit of effort seemed to reassure Dark, his body visibly relaxing and he finally allowed Wilford to pull him away, the two disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Dr. Iplier turned to the Host, nodding toward the door. “You too. Get. He needs his rest.” The Host obediently rose, his fingers ghosting over Silver’s forehead in one last gentle touch. He pulled Dr. Iplier into a brief kiss before heading out the door, closing it quickly behind him.

Silver glanced up at Dr. Iplier before slowly revealing his arms again, wincing at the sight of significantly more blood seeping through. Dr. Iplier sighed, taking the Host’s place in the chair. “There’s…one more thing I need to ask you.” He swallowed, gaze darting away briefly before locking eyes with Silver. “Are you…suicidal?”

Silver’s eyes shot wide. “No! No no no, I don’t – I would never wish that on you guys, not after what I’ve gone through.” He looked away. “I just…I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Dr. Iplier let out a sigh of relief, dragging both hands down his face. “Okay. Well. Alright. That is a relief.” He set about clearing the food off his bed, flashing a tired smile. “Get some sleep, Silver. You look like Hell, even without the bloody bandages.”

Silver laughed, pulling the covers more completely over himself as Dr. Iplier walked away. He shifted before calling out. “I’m…sorry.”

Dr. Iplier gave him another soft smile. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Silver. You were hurting. You still are. But we’ll work it out. We always do. You’ll be okay.”

Silver said nothing, just rolled over and let his eyes slip shut before drifting off into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> ...Yeah. Silver, he's...he's going through a rough time, and the effects of this story have a ripple effect through the entirety of the series. His scars ARE brought up from time to time, and I'll be sure to put warnings on those stories, too. But Silver...he's going to be okay. I promise. He just...he has to be, for me too. It's gonna be tough, I'm not just gonna snap my fingers and go 'oh he's all better now!' because that's just...not how it works. I personally went through a bit of a rough patch, and I myself resorted to the same outlet as Silver did. And I'm fine (relatively) now. I haven't hurt myself in years, but I still see a therapist to this day. It's...it's gonna get better for Silver. Gonna be tough, but he'll recover. After all, he's got a massive family who loves him, and he's got Jackie there too. And I may or may not be crying while writing this note but hey. Anyway, while I did just say Silver's not gonna automatically be better, this is a pretty heavy story. And I think you guys could use some major fluff after this. Wednesday is my favorite story of the month, and definitely in the top ten of all the ones I've written over all. I'll see you guys then. And hey, my Tumblr's always open if you guys wanna talk, whether about stories or just chat or the type of stuff this story deals with, my door's always open.
> 
> doctordiscord123.tumblr.com
> 
> (Oh yeah, I'm gonna go update the relevant chapters of the Ego Characterization thing too after this, specifically the Scars chapter and the Playlist one, if you guys wanna check them out)


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